


Samtember 2020

by Thunder_Cakes



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Daily Prompts, Drabble Collection, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Nothing But Respect for MY Captain America, Sam Wilson-centric, Samtember, Short stories for my bird boy, discussions of depression, lowkey Samtober now, not graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:21:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 13,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26244811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thunder_Cakes/pseuds/Thunder_Cakes
Summary: Daily ficlets for our best guy, Sam ~Thee Falcon~ Wilson!
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanov/Sam Wilson, Riley/Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Sam Wilson
Comments: 147
Kudos: 73
Collections: Samtember





	1. New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Samtember!!! This month we celebrate our sweet bird king. Chapters (so far) are unrelated, though may exist in the same timeline. I'll add more tags as we go. Enjoy! 
> 
> content warning: slight panic attack in this chapter but it's nothing graphic or drawn out 
> 
> First up: New Beginnings

Sam is ecstatic. 

Years of studying, therapy and volunteering have brought him right here, to this moment. The sun shines through the window at his back, casting a faint glow across this little room that belongs to him now. He takes a deep breath and looks around his new office. The bookshelves are empty and could probably use a little dusting, the ratty couch in the corner is missing a few springs and the paperwork is already beginning to pile on his desk. 

Sam is terrified.

His stomach twists as he wonders what the hell made him think he could do this. How did he convince everyone else he could do this? Three years ago he could barely leave his momma’s house, and there are still days he struggles to process the world around him. Hell, he called his old therapist in Harlem  _ last week _ . Why does he think he can be of any help to anyone? His eyes flit around the room, the walls starting to lean in towards him. 

Sam’s chest feels tight and he reaches for the desk as his head starts to spin. Just as he goes to sit, his gaze lands on the two frames adorning the wall across from him. Inside the first is his CUNY diploma, minted just six months ago, while the other holds a photo from the same day. He stands in the center, wearing that horrendous blue robe, surrounded by his beaming family. His mother beside him clutches said degree to her chest, tears still streaming down her face. 

“That’s why,” he reminds himself aloud. He’s worked hard to get here. On himself, in school, with his family. Sam rebuilt his world, with the help of his family, a handful of therapists and his own determination. He came here to help others like him, and he’s going to do it, goddammit. Impostor syndrome be damned. 

He takes a few more deep breaths, and settles into his desk chair. Sam only has a few days before his first appointment, and there’s a lot to learn before then. He reaches for the nearest folder and gets to work. 

Sam is ready. 


	2. Seaside

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a moment on the beach

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today's prompt: Seaside

Sand. 

For so long sand meant the rough brush of fatigues, the smell of fresh blood, the sound of Riley’s laughter. Years in the desert made the beach inconceivable. Everything about his life now felt beyond reach. 

Sam stands at the edge of the boardwalk, staring down at his toes digging into the sand. That's new. Or old, rather. Either way, it’s not something they ever did on tour. He feels those memories clawing at his back, the heat of the sun too familiar on his neck. He remembers the itch of the sand in his clothes, the burn of the wind on his face. For a moment, they feel, as ever, to heavy to shake. Until Sam wiggles a toe and the world comes rushing back all at once. The smell of the sea and the crashing of the waves, a seagull cawing from a nearby flag pole. Sam takes a deep breath and forces his shoulders to relax. He looks up just in time to catch a familiar smile as it rushes towards him. 

“Uncle Sam!” Joey giggles as she reaches for him. “Are you gonna help me build a sandcastle, or what?”

Her little hand grasps his and Sam cracks a smile. “Yeah, Jo. Lead the way.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to the lovelies over at [Sam Wilson Fest](https://twitter.com/SamWilsonFest) for the prompts and the support!


	3. Birb Powers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam goes to lunch. Redwing is kind of a dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Birb powers
> 
> I love bird power Sam and I love all interpretations of Redwing. Excited to throw my own into the mix.

Sam groans as he stretches his legs out in front of him. He rolls his shoulders and relishes in the rhythmic cracking of his spine. It’s been a long morning hunched over his keyboard and arguing with automated customer service lines, trying to get one of his patients new IDs. He’s been looking forward to this lunch break since breakfast, which was going on eight hours ago. It’s come a few hours later than he’d prefer but he got the job done so he’s gonna revel in this free period. He’s got his favorite sandwich from the deli down the street and the best bench in the park was actually free for once. It’s like the universe knew he needed a win this afternoon. 

Just as Sam settles in and unwraps his sandwich, there is a fluttering to his left. 

“No,” he says as he takes his first bite, closing his eyes to savor the perfect balance of sauerkraut and corned beef. 

The movement comes closer.  _ Samuel _

“No,” he mumbles around the mouthful, still not opening his eyes. 

_ Just one, Samuel  _

Sam sighs, turning to look at the small Eastern Towhee bouncing on the bench next to him. “Kronos, when is it ever just one? And how long until every other bird in the park is asking for ‘just one,' and then I'm left with nothing."  


Kronos insists, hopping around the empty seat beside Sam until he gives in, suppressing a smile and tossing a fry the bird’s way. The victorious hoot Kronos lets out, draws the attention of a few friends. A couple finches and a young titmouse join them, chittering at Sam about their day as they scarf down the majority of his fries. 

Sam is nodding along to the titmouse recounting her epic battle with a chickadee over a hawk feather for her nest, when heavy flapping and a precocious caw sounds before a heavy weight lands on his shoulder. 

“Redwing,” Sam murmurs, shifting in his seat to better accommodate his friend.

_ Are these canaries bothering you, Wilson? _ Redwing glares down at the smaller birds, who dance towards each other, wings twitching as they weigh their desire for more snacks against their fear of the falcon. 

Sam rolls his eyes, amused. “No, Redwing. We’re just having lunch. At ease.”

Redwing huffs in Sam’s ear but obeys.  _ Fine. But keep it short. I can only deal with mindless pigeons for so long.  _

Sam grins and turns back to the titmouse inching around his foot to get closer to his lunch bag. “Sorry Rhea, you were saying?” he prompts, throwing her another fry. 

Plumage quivering with pride, Rhea jumps back into the tale of her cunning and bravery, hopping from foot to foot in her excitement. 

Redwing sighs deeply, making Sam grin and reach up to run a hand over his back. He pretends not to notice how the falcon relaxes into his touch. 

This wasn't the peaceful lunch Sam was looking forward to, but it was exactly what he needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never thought I'd be googling "can birds sigh" for a fic, but here we are.
> 
> Tomorrow: a new POV


	4. Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not everything is as it seems. Just the important stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this on my phone, in the car on an unexpected road trip, so I’m sure typos abound. 
> 
> Some OCs in this one because I really needed to write some Black women today and the MCU doesn’t give us much to work with 🥴
> 
> Prompt: undercover

Trish fluffs her curls, using the dingy train car window as a mirror.

“I cannot believe you’re primping for the barista,” Cherish snorts from the seat next to her. “Flirting with people at work is creepy.”

“I know that,” snaps Trish. “I’m not flirting. I just want him to know that if he ever wants to see me outside of the coffee shop, I would be amenable.”

It’s been two months since the tall, dark and handsome barista stared at First Brew, the coffee shop across the street from their office. Trish had been taken aback by his bright smile and the wink he shot her when he asked her name for the order. She couldn’t help but grin back, thus starting weeks of drawn out eye contact, knowing smiles and sly comments. Trish loved it. Cherish was tired of hearing about it.

“Ya know, if he wants to go grab a co— well, not a coffee. Maybe a beer?” Trish turns to her best friend and bares her teeth.

“You have a little,” Cherish gestures to her own mouth and Trish hurries to swipe at the lipstick on her teeth. “And how would he ask you out, if again, you only ever see him at work.”

Trish shrugs. “Maybe we’ll run into each other at the Trader Joe’s around the corner. I’ve seen him in there a few times after work.”

“Oh! We’re stalking Barista Boy now?” Cherish gasps, expression wavering between horrified and amused.

“He has a name!” Trish throws her hands in the air. “It’s Paul. And I’m not stalking him! We have just both happened to be reaching for the everything bagel seasoning at once.”

Cherish settles on amuses and guffaws. “Y’all had a meet cute in the seasoning aisle and you still haven’t jumped his bones?”

“Oh my god, Cee. You just told me not to flirt with him when he’s working. Will you pick a side?”

Gathering her bag and standing as their stop nears, Cherish smirks. “C’mon, Mrs. Darcy. Maybe your hands will brush over the straw dispenser again.”

*

Cherish is still teasing when they emerge from the stairwell and out into the street. “What are you gonna say? You already bat your eyelashes and questioned him about sugar in the raw last week. I don’t know how you’re gonna top that.”

Trish opens her mouth to defend herself as they turn the corner to their block, but freezes when she sees the scene outside First Brew.

The sidewalk and part of the street in front of the store are roped off and guarded by people in nondescript suits and dark sunglasses. Behind them, all the glass of the storefront has been blown out, accented by dark smudges on the walls and window seats. A crowd has gathered to rubberneck at the agents, definitely agents Trish decides, who are carrying more and more boxes and bins from the destroyed shop and into the back of a nearby van.

“Holy shit,” Cherish murmurs, clutching at Trish’s arm. The two step closer, though staying out of the way.They watch the scene play out in silence.

“You don’t think...” Trish can't bring herself to finish the question. Cherish just wraps an arm around her, knowing she doesn’t have any answers either.

Suddenly there’s the sound of familiar laughter and they both look up to see Paul, head thrown back in mirth as he steps over the scattered broken glass. He’s wearing the same bland suit as everyone else behind the tape, but his comes with a badge around his neck, decorated with a familiar logo. There’s a small cut on his cheekbone and the shadow of a bruise on the side of his neck, but he looks otherwise unharmed. In fact, he’s practically glowing as he points two other agents toward something unseen in the store.

As if sensing their eyes on him, he turns and catches sight of them immediately. He cracks an apologetic smile, saying a quick word to the nearest agent before jogging over to them.The agents at the barricades shift out of his way, letting him out and closing ranks behind him almost immediately.

“Trish! Cherish. Hi,” he grins sheepishly as he gets closer.

“Uh, hi Paul,” Trish can’t help but smile back, though still clearly confused.

“Sam, actually.”

“Huh?”

“My name is actually Sam. Sam Wilson.” He holds out his hand as if they’re meeting for the first time. Trish suppresses a bit of hysteria and shakes it.

“Nice to meet you Sam. And you work for SHIELD?” she eyes, his badge.

He nods. “Yep. Domestic terrorism division,” he glances back at what’s left of First Brew as if in explanation.

“I see.” Trish has lived in DC long enough to know that’s the most explanation she’ll get. Cherish pinches the back of her shirt, though what she’s trying to communicate Trish has no idea.

Pa-Sam beams at her. “I uh, I just wanted to pass this along,” he holds out a small white card, blank except for his name and phone number printed across the front. “You know in case we have any follow up questions on the investigation. You know, as a regular customer and potential witness.”

“In that case wouldn’t you want her phone number?” Cherish winces when Trish’s elbow digs into her side.

“Thank you,” Trish plucks the card from Sam’s hand, letting their fingers brush along the way. “I’ll let you know if I... see anything.”

Sam smiles slyly at her, the same smile he gave her when she asked what kind of coffee his girlfriend liked. “Great. I’m looking forward to hearing from you.” He backs up slowly, eyes holding hers before he turns on his heel and slides back into the crime scene.

The two women stand there for a moment before turning on their own and heading across the street to their office building.

“I knew he didn’t get biceps like that grinding coffee beans.”

“Oh my God, Cherish shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thought not based off them, Trish and Cherish are indirectly named after my aunties. Black women are top tier. I love us.


	5. Heated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> SamBucky, in the kitchen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a short one today :)
> 
> prompt: heated

“Saaaaaaam”

“What’s with the whining?”

“Is it warm enough yet?”

“I don’t think so. I only put it in for a couple minutes. ”

“Well did you test it?”

“You test it.”

“My hands are kind of full at the moment. Just stick a finger in.”

“I’m not fingering your lasagna, Bucky.”

“Why not? You finger m-"

“Get out of my kitchen, Barnes.”

“But I thought you wanted me to butter your buns, Sammy. You love it when I butter your buns.”

“Out!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lasagna >>>> dick 
> 
> see y'all tomorrow!


	6. 70s Costume

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *insert classic makeover montage here*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alternate title: Say Yes to the Suit   
> Prompt: 70s costume

Sam steps out of the dressing room, with a bounce in his step and a grin on his face. He struts to the end walkway, stopping at the end and rotating between poses while he waits for Steve to pick his jaw up off the floor.

“Yes! Yes. That’s it. That’s the one,” his boyfriend chokes out.

Natasha groans, long and loud, from her seat beside him. “Absolutely not, you horny bastards.”

“Whaaaat?” Sam whines, through a giggle. “I think it looks nice!” He pouts at her. “You don’t like it, Nat?”

Natasha glares at him, gesturing at his being as if it’s self explanatory.

“Well,  _I_ like it Sammy,” Steve insists. Sam looks over to see his eyes darkened, running up and down Sam’s body with a spark that says he’s making plans.

“That! That is why this will never work!” Natasha exclaims, planting a hand on the side of Steve’s face and shoving. Steve ducks under her arm so he can make eye contact with Sam again. Well, with Sam’s thighs. “The world won’t survive you exposing your belly button in the field.”

Sam looks at his exposed torso, running a hand down the admittedly absurd deep v of the suit, “I mean, belly buttons are weird but I didn’t think mine was world ending.”

“Your belly button is perfect,” Steve whisperers emphatically. Sam winks at him. Natasha ignores them.

“You fly into a fight half naked and Steve will loose all concentration and probably set off a bomb he’s supposed to defuse.”

“Your body’s da bomb,” Steve mutters, reaching for Sam and clearly not paying attention.

Natasha just raises an eyebrow, point proven.

Sam tries to look disappointed but his delight at his man’s antics is hard to conceal. “Alright, fine. I’ll try on the next option.” He smacks Steve’s hand away with a smirk and turns on his heel.

“Well damn,” he hears Natasha murmur, as he heads back to the dressing room. “Aren’t you lucky?”

Steve sighs happily. “I know.”

Sam snickers and puts a little extra swing in his step. They’re gonna look anyway, he might as well give ‘em a show.

“Do the green one next!” Steve calls from his seat. Sam nods as he ducks back behind the curtain.

In the dressing room, he strips and folds the rejected suit before tucking it into his bag anyway. He knew he couldn’t wear it in the field, but it’s good to know it’ll come in handy at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A day late, but she’s here! Might fuck around and post another one tonight 🥴😅


	7. Space

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is not what Sam meant when he told Steve he wanted to go somewhere new on their honeymoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one <3

This is not what Sam meant when he told Steve he wanted to go somewhere new on their honeymoon. Largely because, among other reasons, his husband is not here with him. 

Sam stares at the small floating being made of pure light bobbing in front of him.

“Put me the fuck back.”

The orb stills. “Oh, but Mr. Falcon we need your assistance! Our fearless leader has lost contact with their smorpaq and their grief prevents them from fulfilling their duties to the clan. We’ve heard tales of your great wisdom and enlightened counsel on matters of the ventricles, and hoped you would come to our aid.”

“So you abducted me?” Sam shouts.  _ Wisdom,  _ he hears his father’s voice in his head.  _ Options, opponents, allies, exits.  _ He shakes his head and takes a deep breath. Four counts in, six counts out. “‘Tales of my greatness’? From  _ who _ ? And what the hell is a smorpaq?” Sam has about 46 more questions, but those seem the most pertinent. He shakes his head, using the movement to take in his surroundings. 

“A smorpaq is ummm, a companion? No, that’s not the word.” There’s a gurgling noise above Sam's head and the light seems to bob harder as if in agreement. Sam very pointedly does not look up. “Ah yes, spouse. That’s the word. A life partner, if you will.”

Sam sighs. He’s being kidnapped across light years to be a royal marriage counselor. 

“The captain mentioned you upon our last encounter,” the orb continues, brightening at the words.

Sam can feel his blood pulse in his temple. “What captain? Because the only aliens my captain knows would know better than to just snatch me up out of his bed. My captain who is probably down on Earth tearing Stark and NASA a new one trying to get his husband back.” Sam tries to ignore the happy flutter in his gut at the new title.  _ Not now _ , he thinks.  _ Gotta get back to him first.  _

“But Captain Marvel—”

“Carol!” he mutters like a curse. “Of course it was Carol. You give an all powerful friend relationship advice  _ once  _ and suddenly she’s recommending you as some kind of intergalactic therapist.” 

The little light flickers hesitantly. 

Sam shoves his annoyance down, quietly thankful that the situation seems more annoying than dangerous. “Okay, look. I hear that you all need help, and I sympathize. Unfortunately, even when I was a counselor, this wasn’t my job. And if it was, I would not be leaving my husband less than a week after our wedding to go save someone else’s marriage. Understand?”

The orb droops. “Understood, Mr. Falcon.”

“Now,” Sam pushes his shoulders back and straightens his robe where it covers his otherwise naked chest and boxer briefs. “I demand that you return me to my husband so we can all move on with our lives.”

“Of course, Mr. Falcon. We’ll reunite you with your consort, posthaste.” 

There’s a faint tintinnabulation behind him and a familiar gasp. Sam spins around just in time to catch his flustered husband, rushing towards him with arms wide open. 

“Sam!” Steve pulls him in, cradling the back of his head like he’s something precious thought lost. Sam feels his posture ease as he’s wrapped in Steve’s familiar scent before he tenses up again. 

“This is not what I meant!” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one might need a sequel ; )


	8. Cap!Sam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cap meets a fan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one really fought me, but we’re here. We did it 😅
> 
> Prompt: Cap!Sam

“Um, excuse me. Mr. Captain America, sir?”

Sam looks up at the small voice, spotting the child standing at the end of his bench. Their head is pointed at their feet, but they’re peeking up at Sam through the little braids hanging out the front of their beanie. He looks down at his own clothing, always surprised at how quick kids are to recognize him out of uniform. 

“Well hello there,” Sam grins. He glances around for an accompanying adult, but no one in the vicinity is even looking in their direction. “What’s your name?” 

“Billie,” they say, tugging on the hem of their shirt. 

“It’s nice to meet you Billie. Are you here all by yourself?” he asks gently. 

Billie shakes their head, looking around then back at their shoes. “I was with my brother but he got a phone call and I went to watch the art people and the silver lady winked at me and when I turned to tell Miles, he was gone. And I know we were going in this direction because he promised to take me to see the geese, but don’t really know how to get there and Mommy said I can’t have a phone until I’m twelve so I can’t call him and Daddy said if I’m ever in trouble I should look for an adult I can trust, so I was looking but everyone around us a stranger but then I saw you! And I know I can trust you Cap, right? You’ll help me?” By now Billie's breath is coming quickly and tears are threatening to fall. 

Sam offers a hand, and Billie clutches it like a lifeline. “Of course I’ll help,” he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket and gives it to them too. Steve won’t mind. “Let’s take some deep breaths, okay? Count with me.” The two breathe together for a moment, Sam speaking in soft tones to keep their attention. 

Sam reaches for his phone, about to ask for their brother’s number when there’s a hoarse shout from down the path. 

“Billie!” 

“Miles!” Billie turns and gasps as a lanky young man comes bounding down the path at breakneck speed, easily sidestepping multiple pedestrians and a dog walker before he slides to his knees and scoops Billie up in his arms. Billie starts crying again, though it seems to be in relief. Their brother rocks them back and forth, ranting in faster Spanish then Sam can follow with tears of his own. Billie mumbles into his chest, his jacket gripped tightly in their fingers. 

Sam sits back and glances at his phone, letting the siblings reunite unobserved. He tunes back in when he hears his name. 

“-merica and we were about to call you when you showed up,” Billie says, twisting their hands in Miles’ shirt. 

“Well then, we should definitely thank  _ Mr Captain America _ , shouldn’t we?” Miles says with an air of condescension. He looks up, eyes amused until they meet Sam’s, when they widen with shock. “Oh shit,” he breathes. 

“Miles! You can’t curse in front of a superhero,” Billie scolds. “He’ll tell Santa.”

Miles’ nose scrunches up like he wants to roll his eyes, but can’t take them off Sam. 

Sam stifles a laugh and smiles sympathetically. “Hi Miles. I think Billie should be okay. Nothing an ice cream and a reminder to always stay with an adult can’t fix,” he adds with a wink at Billie. They nod solemnly, but can’t hide the sparkle in their eye. 

A vaguely familiar chime echos from Miles’ pocket just as Sam’s phone goes off. Stark’s app alerts him of a troop of robot monkeys tearing up Wall Street. He winces, wondering if maybe he could just leave them there. Sighing, he tucks his phone away and stands to go. 

“I need to head out,” he crouches to say goodbye to Billie. “It was very nice to meet you. I’m glad you decided I’m an adult you can trust.”

Billie grins at him, handing over the slightly damp handkerchief before jumping into his arms for a hug. “Thank you, Captain America.” They pull back and reach for their brother’s hand. 

Miles stares at him over Billie’s head. “Really, Cap.  _ Thank you _ .” 

There’s a weight to his words that Sam recognizes all too well. One that almost always comes from someone Black, Brown or queer. Sam’s smile goes a little watery as he nods. 

Miles takes Billie’s hand and leads them away, both of them glancing back at Sam a few times. Eventually they turn a corner and Sam takes a deep breath, turning towards Downtown. 

“That never gets old.”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw// death, grief, feel free to skip this note 
> 
> Some people choose to be symbols, to actively represent something, to publicly do and be more for their community. While not a tribute, I could not write this without the passing of Chadwick Boseman on my heart. I did not personally know him and cannot claim to grieve the man he was. But I was touched by his art and his words, and I would like to honor the choices he made. To tell our stories, to celebrate our history and our future, to be a symbol for us. 
> 
> Thank you Chadwick. For your time, and your care, and your work. Thank you for giving us a a hero. A king. I hope we make you proud.


	9. Meet The Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Family” has a lot of definitions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Riley/Sam so much I accidentally wrote it a day early. Oops. 
> 
> Prompt: meet the family

Riley shifts uncomfortably where he stands by the car, fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. The beautiful blue farmhouse looms in front of him. Almost a dozen cars dot the neighboring field and the sounds of music and children’s laughter can be heard from inside. Riley gulps. 

“You gotta calm down, babe” Sam says, coming around the hood to stand at his side. “This isn’t even everybody.” He’s grinning at his wingman, amused at the usually cocky bastard turned into an unnerved teenager. 

“I just want them to like me,” Riley mumbles, looking up into Sam’s eyes. “They’re your family. It’s important.” 

Sam’s smile softens. “Don’t worry. They’re going to love you.” He slips his arm into Riley’s and pulls him up the walkway. “Besides, they’re meeting my family too,” he whispers. Riley blushes, tugging Sam closer to brush a kiss to his cheek. He pulls away right as the front door swings open, overflowing with surprised, happy Wilsons. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be advised, this is 2 of 3 (4?) chapters I’m posting tonight to get caught up! Make sure you’re not missing one because who knows how the notifications are gonna go


	10. Riley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A tribute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another one! 
> 
> Prompt: Riley

A feather light touch makes its way from his hip bone to his shoulder blade, making Sam grin into his pillow. This is his favorite way to wake up. Sam loves the brush on Steve’s fingers on his back. The way they dance over his muscles, press deep into the knots along his spine, trace the thin web of lines permanently etched into his skin. It’s intimate, meditative, worshipful. 

Steve bends to kiss where the left wing arches gracefully over his shoulder. “These aren’t yours.” His voice is a rumble against Sam’s back. It’s not a question. 

“No,” Sam whispers. 

Steve hums and moves his lips higher up Sam’s neck. 

“Riley?” 

Sam nods, arching into Steve’s touch along his spine. “Got it about a year after I came home. Wanted to carry a little piece of him with me. There was a while there where it was carrying me.” 

Steve wraps his arms around Sam, pressing against his back from chest to toe. “I’m glad.” 

“Me too.” Sam places his hands over Steve’s, winding their fingers together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hello it’s been six months since I’ve been in a tattoo studio and I’m having withdrawals 😭
> 
> 3 of 3! I’m tired lol


	11. Holding Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam Wilson has two hands. Sam Wilson has two boyfriends. This shouldn’t be a problem. 
> 
> Except it is.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess I wasn’t tired enough bc here’s a fourth one 
> 
> Prompt: Holding Hands

Sam Wilson has two hands. Sam Wilson has two boyfriends. This shouldn’t be a problem. 

Except it is. Because his boyfriends are ridiculous. 

They stand on either side of the coffee table, hands on their hips and glaring at each other, seemingly oblivious to Sam and his book on the couch. 

“Why do you always get Sam’s left hand?” 

“Uhh, it’s kinda of our thing, Bucko.” 

“Your  _ thing?  _ it’s you being a dick to my man and calling it cute because you don’t know how to flirt.”

“Like you’re any better? Where do you think I learned that from?” Steve points accusingly, “You’re jealous because Sam won’t let you rip out his steering wheel everytime you want to make eyes at him.”

Bucky scoffs. “At least I have some game—”

“No,” Sam interrupts, not even looking up from his book. 

“At least I have some skill,” Bucky course corrects without pause. “You just pull out the same tease to remind Sam about the time you stalked him around DCs most scenic memorials and you get the good side? That’s fucked up, man.” 

Sam looks up, curious but unwilling to get invested in the conversation. “Wait, why is my left the good side? Why do you care?” Steve crosses his arms, smug. Bucky ducks his head and averts his eyes. Sam squints at them before an idea forms. “Is it the arm?” He asks, nodding to Bucky’s prosthetic. “Cause you know it doesn’t bother me at all Buck.” It’s not something he thinks Steve would tease about, but honestly who knows where their boundaries are when they get like this. 

A blush rises high on Bucky’s cheeks as he shakes his head. “Nah Sammy, it’s fine. Don’t trouble yourself.”

Sam snorts, “I’m not _troubling_ _myself_ , y’all are troubling me. Yelling in my living room when I’m trying to read. What is it?”

Bucky sighs and mumbles a quick “You're right handed.” 

“Huh?” Sam asked. Steve snickers. 

Bucky glares up at Steve though it’s clear he’s speaking to Sam. “You’re right handed. You let go. To text or open doors or whatever. You let go to do stuff and then I’m just standing there, all untethered, while this little shit hangs all over you and smirks at me over your shoulder because I never would have noticed until he mentioned it last week.”

“Seriously, Steve?” Sam deadpans. 

Steve swings to look at Sam, eyes burning with righteousness. “He ate the last pie, Sam! Your Ma sent that pie for  _ me _ and he ate it while I  _ slept _ . I woke up to him licking the crumbs from the pan in our bed! I had to do something.”

Sam's face twists in disgust. _ And that’s why I have my own room, _ he thinks.  _ My own bed free of crumbs and revenge snark. _ He loved them but he needed his space. And food free sheets. 

“Okay well,” Sam rolls his eyes as he stands. “y’all have fun with whatever form of foreplay arguing over me is. Me and my two hands will be in my room. Waiting around for something to hold.” He strips his shirt off, tossing it over as he passes them and slips into the hallway. 

There’s a short pause before he hears a quick yelp, heavy furniture being shoved out of the way, and Bucky yelling “I call the right one!” as they thunder down the hall behind him. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I’m actually gonna go to sleep now. Maybe. Probably.


	12. Redwing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Man’s best friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Late cause I got wrapped up in that Meryl Streep movie about money laundering.
> 
> Idk why I’m still writing these on my phone like I’m not sitting next to my computer 😂
> 
> Prompt: Redwing

_ You’ll do. _

Sam snorts, squinting at the Lanner falcon resting comfortably on his arm. “I’m ever so glad. It’s nice to meet you too.” 

The falcon tilts its head to one side.  _ Huh. About time I got a one with a useful mutation. _

“Had many human charges, have you?” Sam smirks. His CO had been quite clear that the birds were also new to the EXO FALCON-7 program. 

_ A few. _ Redwing resettles his feathers in a way Sam can only describe as haughty. 

Amused, Sam turns to share this new found affection with Riley, who is too busy cooing at his smaller Merlin falcon, Greyskull. 

“We’re gonna be best friends, yes we are! Who’s a good girl? Who's a good combat trained war bird? You are!” 

Greyskull turns her head to look directly at Sam and Redwing.  _ Make it stop.  _

“I don’t think she likes that, Cruz.” 

“Shut up, Wilson. What do you know about birds?” Riley waves him off, grinning. “You love me, don’t you Skully-girl!”

_ Oh absolutely not, _ Greyskull huffs before taking off of Riley’s arm and landing on Sam’s shoulder.  _ Redwing, we’re sharing. _

“Hey! How the fuck did you steal my bird, Wilson? Give it back!” 

“It’s not my fault she has taste.”

***

Sam will dream about the first time they really fly together for the rest of his life. 

It’s routine supply pick up, no training routine or assertive eyes assessing their performance. Just the four of them, alone in the sky, more free than Sam ever knew was possible. 

Sam’s been asking birds what it’s like to fly since he was four years old. Every answer they ever gave him was both beautifully accurate and woefully inadequate. 

He laughs breathlessly into the wind, only able to hear Riley’s muffled whoops of joy through the comm link in their headsets. Redwing and Greyskull, on the other hand, sound in his head, loud and clear. 

_ Dweebs.  _ Greyskull’s fallen into her new default of amused and exasperated. 

_ Yes,  _ Redwing’s voice rumbles in Sam’s brain.  _ But ours.  _

_ Ours,  _ Greyskull agrees. 

Sam crows into the sky. 

***

Almost two years later, Riley goes down. All three of them dive to catch him. None of them make it in time. Greyskull gets a little too close. 

***

“I have to go,” Sam whispered.

_ I will stay with her.  _

“I think I can convince them to let me take you both.” He can’t. He knows better. 

_ Her wing needs time, Wilson.  _

“They’ll assign you to someone else. I-I need you, Redwing.”

_ They wouldn’t dare.  _

Sam sighs. It’s more of a sob. 

_ We’ll meet again, Sam Wilson. I know it. _

_ *** _

Six months after he’s discharged, Sam gets a call on his mother’s house phone. Greyskull has recovered as much as she can, but she won’t be returned to active duty. Sam helps his old CO find a sanctuary in Montana that will take her. It’s the first thing he’s  _ wanted _ to do in a very long time. 

He asks after Redwing and gets an answer he never expected. 

He goes to the VA the next day. 

***

Sam’s still settling into his new place in DC when the doorbell rings. He opens the door, barely registering the person holding the carrier with the thick cloth cover. 

He waves them forward holding his breath as the carrier is placed on the dining room table, the faceless agent nodding at him before slipping out and shutting the front door behind him. 

Sam has tears in his eyes as he creeps closer to the cage, stomach suddenly turning with nerves. 

_ Now what fresh hell is this?  _ echoes from the cage.  _ Damn handlers just leaving me places for who knows what reason. Wilson would never.  _

Sam gasps and lunges, ripping off the cover much faster than he knows he should. “At ease, bird brain,” he laughs through his tears, opening the door and gently sliding the cowl from his friend’s eyes. “We’ve got three years with SHIELD, and then we’re both free to go.” He sighs. “It’s damn good to see you.”

Redwing, for the first time in the years they’ve known each other, seems speechless. Sam takes a step back and holds out an arm. Redwing soars across the room, skipping the offered forearm and lands on Sam’s shoulder. 

_ Ours.  _ It’s more of a broadcasted feeling than a thought.  _ Us.  _

“Yeah bud, us.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be my favorite so far 🥺 I hope y’all like it 
> 
> See you tomorrow ❤️


	13. Surprise

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprise! Will you marry me? Again?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Today I got a Snapchat memory from college where I was ranting about how I wouldn’t be me if I was ever on time, while walking to a class I was 15 minutes late for. Do what you may with that info, but *I* would apply it to your expectations of my posting schedule 😅
> 
> Prompt: Surprise

Sam is just coming into the house, arms full of groceries, when he stops in his tracks. 

“Uhhh, what are you doing?”

Steve kneels in the entryway, surrounded by rose petals and tiny battery operated candles, with tears in his eyes. He’s gripping a familiar velvet box in his hands. Sam gently sets the grocery bags on the floor beside him. 

“Sam. You know how much I love you. More than there are fish in the sea or stars in the sky. More than I love your Ma’s apple pie or the whisky Thor brings from Asgard. More than I knew this body could hold, even with it’s accoutrement,” he adds, flexing his biceps for emphasis." Sam covers his mouth with one hand to smother a giggle, his smile shinning in his eyes. “For the first time in my life, I’m not afraid of the future. Because when I think about where I’ll be ten, twenty, fifty years down the line, I know I’ll be with you. You hold me, you challenge me, you thrill me. All I ask for is the privilege to do the same for you. Samuel Wilson, will you marry me?” 

Sam sighs happily and holds out his left hand. “Every moment of every day.” Steve slips the ring onto his finger before pulling Sam to join him on the floor. They collapse together, Sam nestled into Steve’s neck as they curl up on the hardwood. 

“You’re early,” he snickers, pressing a kiss to Steve’s collarbone. “The anniversary isn’t until Saturday.” 

Steve shrugs under him. “The jeweler finished them sooner than we expected. Figured you’d like the surprise.” 

Sam’s confirmation is interrupted by an exasperated and much less happy sigh in the doorway. 

“Do you two have to do this every year?” 

The two of them sit up to look at their eldest daughter, making her way up the stoop and through the open door. Letitia doesn’t even glance down at her fathers, rolling her eyes as she lugs her own arm full of groceries into the house. 

“You’ll understand one day, Leti!” Sam calls, ignoring her disbelieving scoff and winking at his husband. He reaches for the ring box, plucking Steve’s wedding band from the plush velvet and sliding it home. Sam presses a kiss to the tip of the finger, moving up Steve’s hand to his wrist, reaching his lips up the flexing forearm. 

Steve is leaning in to kiss Sam, when the thunder of little feet draws his eyes up and wide. He spreads one arm and guards his nads with the other just in time for their two youngest to come barreling into his lap. The twins are already yelling over each other, racing to tell Steve about their day and who they mimicked or shifted into at the supermarket, so it’s easy for Sam to slip out from under the pile and scoop up the paper bags where he left them. 

He drops them on the kitchen island at the same time his son reaches the bottom of the steps, yanking out his head phones and beelining to the bag overflowing with Girl Scout cookies.

“Aht aht!” Sam chucks a bag of marshmallows at him. “You know the rules, Ray. No snacking until all the food is put away.” 

Rayshawn rolls his eyes, but grabs a few cans and heads for the pantry. 

Letitia slides in next to Sam as he opens the fridge and hands him a few gallons of juice. “You do realize that normal people don’t celebrate the anniversary of their engagement 20 years later, right?” Her tone reminds him shockingly of her Aunt Nat, as does her smirk. Sam knows she secretly loves how mushy her dads are, despite also being disgusted by them. 

“Leti,” he grins, wrapping an arm around her and glancing back at his husband, dropping kisses on two squirming and protesting, green for heads. “When has this family ever been normal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the twins are skrulls. No, I don’t have a explanation why. These prompts get away from me lol 
> 
> One day I will write a fic involving the various marshmallow launchers my dad would use to wake us up for school. Today is not that day. But this may be that family 🤔


	14. Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darlene and Sam share a quiet morning and some good news.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Idk y’all, I just love Darlene 
> 
> Prompt: Coffee

Sam leans against the doorway into his kitchen, smiling softly at his mother fiddling with the coffee pot. 

“I got it, Ma.” He nudges her towards the kitchen table and pulls a few mugs down from the shelf. She protests half heartedly, but he shushes her. “I’m used to it. Bruce gave us the espresso machine as a housewarming gift and Steve still hasn’t figured it out.” 

Darlene chuckles, sitting back and watching her son make coffee. “He did say you’ll only allow him to use the microwave.”

“And the toaster!” Sam laughs. “But never at the same time,” he adds as an afterthought. 

“He cannot be  _ that _ bad, Samuel.”

“Ma. I’ve watched him burn a boiled egg. I’m still not even sure how that happened.” 

Darlene shakes her head and grins at him as he carries three hot mugs over to the table, passing her one and heaping truly absurd amounts of sugar and cream into another. She raises an eyebrow at the action but Sam just shakes his head, stirring the sickly sweet coffee with one hand and raising the untouched one to blow on. The two of them sit in companionable silence for a few minutes, enjoying the sunlight streaming through the large bay windows. 

Moments later, Steve stumbles blearily into the room, clearly following his nose towards them. He barely seems to register her as he mumbles a quick “g’morning Ma,” before collapsing against Sam’s back. Sam lifts the sugar filled coffee to Steve’s eye level, accepting a distracted kiss on the forehead and a gentle thumb brushed across the cheek in thanks before Steve disappears into their bedroom. 

Darlene’s eyes follow the exchange, a new peace settling in her heart. Her boys have each other. They’ll be okay. 

“You’ve made a beautiful life for yourself here, Sammy. Both of you.” She reaches out to hold his free hand, squeezing it lightly. 

Sam ducks his head, a pleased smile flitting across his face. “Thanks, Ma.” 

“I only wish I could make it down to see you more often,” she says wistfully. 

“About that,” Sam shifts nervously in his seat. “We were going to wait until this afternoon, or at least until Steve is coherent for the day but… we bought a house.” 

Darlene looks pointedly around the kitchen. “Well, yes? I know that.” 

“No, Ma.” Sam takes a deep breath. “We bought another house. A house in Harlem. Just a couple miles from you. We uh, we wanna come home.” 

_ Better than okay, _ she thinks, pulling her son around the table and into her arms. Their coffee goes cold in its place on the table while they hold each other. _They’ll have all of us._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is something very different from what I originally had planned, but I like it. Bucky and Redwing can argue another time 👀


	15. Fireman AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve loves Career Day. He always wins. Until now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the halfway point y’all!! 🎉🎉🎉
> 
> Prompt: Fireman AU

Steve loves Career Day. He always wins. 

His mother would scold him for thinking about it that way, but it’s the truth. While often rewarding, being a firefighter is dangerous, exhausting and gut-wrenching. He works long hours, sees a myriad of things he'll never speak of, and spends too much time away from his daughter. His job is hard. But today? Today he gets to stand at the front of Thea’s class, look across the sea of giddy six year old faces and make his little girl proud. 

Sitting in the back of the classroom, Steve glances around at the competition, er, other parents. He knows Mrs. Danvers works on the Hill, and the Carters are music producers. Yolanda is an accountant. Garrison is a contractor. And he’s pretty sure little Halle’s parent, who’s name Steve can never remember, owns a little boutique downtown. 

_ Suckers, _ he thinks. Steve came ready with his helmet, an extra set of bunker gear for the kids to try on and a few classic “cat stuck in a tree” anecdotes. He has this in the bag. 

Thea’s teacher is thanking Yolanda for her riveting summation of tax code, when someone new comes scuttering into the room. Wincing in apology, the broad shouldered man ducks his head and slinks to the back of the room, pausing only to wink and wave a finger at a child in the third row. Steve barely notices him (busy contemplating his impending victory) until the man catches his eye, almost tripping over an empty chair in the process. 

_ It’s him.  _ Steve’s never seen him without the cowl but he would know that jawline anywhere. He feels a smile break over his face, eyes roaming over the figure, familiar even without the wings strapped to his back. 

Captain  _ freaking  _ America smiles back, revealing that signature gap and confirming Steve’s intuition. The same Captain America who Steve has been flirting with on the job for the last six months. The two literally bumped into each other on the 10th floor of a collapsing building, and have been running into each other ever since. Just last week, Steve bandaged his ribs after a hard fall during a fight against some notably hostile aliens. 

_ “Thank you,” the Captain had smirked. “I’m always glad to see my favorite first responder, but getting your hands on me has been a treat.” Steve had all but giggled, lightly shoving him away from the ambulance.  _

_ “You’re lucky this is all you need from me today, Cap. Watch your left flank,” he’d scolded with a smile. If Steve’s fingers rest a bit too long on his shoulders, neither of them mention it. _

_ The jet pack roared to life, and the wings sprouted from his back. “Mmm, why would I when I have you to patch me up?” And he was gone. _

And now he was back. Standing next to Steve, in Thea’s classroom of all places. 

“Lieutenant.” If Steve needed any more confirmation, his voice is it. Low, as if trying to avoid distracting the children or drawing more of the teachers ire. Amused, like he knows exactly what Steve is thinking.  _ Definitely him.  _

“Captain,” Steve murmurs, lips trembling with the urge to grin. 

“Call me Sam.” 

“Steve.” 

They don’t shake hands, but the way their eyes linger mean more to Steve than so casual a touch could. 

The end of another parent presentation breaks the moment, the two looking away to clap with the rest of the room. 

“Are you…” Steve starts, unsure how to ask the question. He glances down at the thick circular case Sam has placed at their feet. 

“Yeah,” Sam ducks his head and Steve’s heart stutters over how charming it is. “I promised my daughter, Akilah, she could be the one to spill the beans.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal. As if revealing his secret identity for his child’s Career Day isn’t just about the sweetest thing Steve’s ever heard. 

“Besides, who’s gonna top superhero?” he adds with that damn smirk. Steve’s heart sets off again, faster than before.

Steve openly beams at him, unable to hold it in. It only grows when Sam responds with a radiant smile of his own. 

Steve doesn’t stand a chance. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so thrilled to lose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 15 down, 15 to go!


	16. Kids

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Steve start a war

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel to Chapter 13: Surprise! I wasn’t ready to leave this family alone ❤️
> 
> Prompt: kids

** Sunday, 0600 EST **

** Washington, DC **

Sam crouches in the empty hallway, scouting before waving his partner forward. Steve moves stealthy, keeping close to the floor and his finger on his trigger. They trade hand signals, debating over who should go where before Steve eventually huffs and follows Sam’s directions. They squat outside doorways directly across from each other, counting down together before pushing their way in.

Sam creeps into the bedroom, army crawling across the floor. He approaches the bed, listening to the target’s deep breaths. He lifts onto his knees and takes aim.

Misses by an inch.

The target groans in his sleep and batts groggily at the air. Sam shoots again.

Direct hit.

“What the—“ Rayshawn sits up in his bed and looks around blearily. “Dad?”

Sam snickers and pulls the trigger again, a marshmallow thumping squarely against his son’s chest.“Arm yourself,” he grins, backing slowly from the room.

“Aren’t we a little too old for this?” Rayshawn asks, rolling his eyes as he stretches casually. His arms arch over his head and come down, reaching behind his headboard.

Sam ducks just in time to miss a barrage of soft little projectiles hitting the door behind him. “Ohhh, you’re gonna have to be quicker than that, kid!”

He ducks back into the hall, catching Steve diving out of Leti’s room. She’s not far behind him, still in her silk bonnet and pajamas, eyes wild with mirth. Steve disappears down the hall, Leti giving up chase when she spots him.

“Hi Daddy,” she chirps, raising her crossbow and an eyebrow. “Am I on your team this year or are you gonna have to eat fluff?”

Sam opens his mouth to answer when a mini marshmallow flies over his shoulder and plops her in the forehead.

“Bump that. This is a free-for-all.”

“Ow, Shawn! Why do yours sting?” Leti whines, rubbing her forehead.

The boy snickers. “I told you to let them sit out for a few days. Let ‘em get lil stale.” He’s already reloading his bow and arrow style launcher and eyeing the two of them. “Now who’s next?”

“You are!” two voices echo down the hall.

The three of them turn to see Tak and Toe pushing a bright yellow trebuchet made of popsicle sticks and cotton balls into position. Sam should have known. They’d been really into the crusades lately. Knowing his kids, it’s probably to perfect scale and historically accurate. Behind them Steve stands proudly, hands on his hips and a smirk on his lips. His own confection rifle dangles uselessly from his belt.

“Strategic retreat?” Sam suggests.

“Mhmm.”

“Yep.”

Yanto makes a show of ripping open a fresh bag of marshmallows and dumping them into the sling.

“Reconvene behind the garden shed,” Sam orders as Takia reaches for the counterweight.

His teenagers nod before they all duck in different directions, a hailstorm of marshmallows pelting their backs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot tell you how many days I woke up to a barrage of marshmallows shot from a plastic crossbow my brother won for selling B*y Sc*ut popcorn (fuck them, btw). 
> 
> Also, I wrote a whole chapter without using italics! Aren’t you proud 😂
> 
> I have pictures of the marshmallow guns but it’s 3 am and I don’t feel like figuring out how to add them here 🥴 maybe I’ll tweet them! Follow me @thundercakes1


	17. Harlem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A walk around the old neighborhood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh, maybe don't look at what day this was posted lmao 
> 
> Prompt: Harlem

Harlem is a symphony of sounds; a different genre of music pumping from every window, honking horns and distant sirens, children giggling and chasing each other under the careful eye of the grandmother on the corner. Sam preens in the sunlight, his feet settling into the familiar rhythm of his surroundings.

The last time he came home it was all too much, battering his senses. Too many people, too close together. But this was home, so he stayed. He cried and let himself heal in the warmth of his mother’s kitchen and he ventured back out into the world. Sam didn’t go far, just a few hundred miles to DC. Far enough to get his own space, close enough to come home for things like this. When his sister called last month about planning a surprise party for their mother, Sam had jumped at the chance. He helped with what he could from DC, booking a venue and making a guest list. It wasn’t much, but it was the kind of thing he missed when he was deployed and even more so when he was too holed up in his own shit to participate. He wasn’t going to let a little distance stop him from doing, now that he could.

Today, Sam had shown up to Sarah’s house early, planning to offer help decorating or watching the kids. Instead she kicked him out, eyeing his hairline and telling him to go see Will, her husband, at the shop. She mumbled something about “not letting a sloppy lineup ruin the photos” as she pushed Sam right back out the door. His last cut wasn’t that long ago, but if he’s being honest he still doesn’t trust his DC barber. And he thought it’d be nice to take a walk around the neighborhood. He’s enjoying it more than he expected. 

He stops at the house on the corner, pausing at the bottom of the stoop until he’s waved forward. Sam knows this house as well as his own. Bobbie Waterson had run her unofficial day care out of it since his parents were children. He and Sarah had spent many an evening doing their homework on her living room floor while their father held Bible study and their mother worked a double. 

“Sam Wilson, as I live and breathe. C’mere boy! How are you?”

“Hi Mrs. Waterson,” Sam grins and leans in to plant a kiss on her proffered cheek. “I’m good. Came to surprise Ma for her birthday. How are you? How’s the family?” 

She sighs deeply, shifting her weight in her seat. “Well my hip is still acting up, but I can’t complain. I’m still here. The kids are good. Out there having babies of their own. Tasha and Devonne are about to have their third.”

Sam nods, though he has no idea who either of those people are. “Glad to hear it. I don’t want to hold you up, I’m just on my way to the barbershop. Can I pick up anything for you on the way back?It’s Friday. Maybe I can sweet talk Sister Jewel into giving me a pound cake?”

Mrs. Waterson laughs. “Oh no, Sammy. I’m alright. You go on and get ready for your momma’s party.” 

“If you’re sure.” Sam nods, backing off her stoop.

“But do me a favor and tell Cletus to bring his old ass home. That man barely has enough hair on his head to need a barber, let alone spend all day there.” 

Laughing, he agrees, glad to make it out of the conversation without having to update her on every detail of his adult life. Trips home usually meant explaining his job and justifying his lack of a partner and why he left to at least ten different neighbors and relatives. 

Waving goodbye, he walks on. It's just a few more blocks to the barbershop and if he wants to be out of there in time for the party, he needs to hustle. 

At the barber, he’s greeted warmly though his arrival barely breaks a pause in the conversation. Will turns from his client, not even turning off his clippers as he and Sam grasp hands and pull each other into a hug. 

“Hey! Didn’t think I’d see you until tonight! How are you?” Will looks him up and down, as if checking for damage or signs of neglect. Sarah and Will saw and held Sam through some of his worst, and if that means they need to look a little harder sometimes, he understands. He’s even thankful for it most of the time. 

Sam shrugs, grinning. “I’m great, man. I’mma let you finish before we catch up,” he says, nodding to Will’s exasperated customer. “You got a long line?”

“Just a few people. We’ll be done in time for the party. Unless you wanna sit for Lionel? No lines for him.”

He looks over at the well dressed barber at the end of the room, sweeping the non-existent hair from around his pristine chair. “I’ll take my chances,” Sam mutters, making Will laugh. 

Sam finds a seat along the front window and sits back, closing his eyes and listening to the voices spar around him. They’re debating AllStar picks, and for a moment nothing has changed. Sam is ten years old again, waiting for Mr. Jenkins to slap a phone book down on the barber’s chair and ask which cut off the wall poster he’s like. He almost expects his father's deep baritone to join the voices around him. Then someone throws in a theory about 4G radiation in LA making the Lakers taller and Sam has to open his eyes to watch the room implode. Some things never change. 

Eventually, Will calls him over to his chair, flapping the thin cape over Sam’s chest as he settles in. They confer on what Sam needs done and commiserate over Sarah’s demands for the day. Will meets his eyes in the mirror as he switches out clipper guards. “It’s good to have you back, Sam.” 

“It’s good to be home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do not ever, e v e r, go to the guy with no line at the barbershop. He will fuck up your hairline and it will take months to grow back in, but also he's your barber now and you're stuck with him. This is not a personal experience I'm projecting, nope not at all. 
> 
> I think the next couple will be shorter just so I can catch up. But also I said this one was going to be short. And then it broke a thousand words soooo


	18. Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt: mornings

Sam closes his front door behind him. He drops his keys in the bowl on the side table. His sweatshirt comes off and is draped over the back of the couch. He crosses his kitchen, opens his fridge and takes a swig of orange juice directly from the jug. Sam screws the top back on, puts the jug back on the shelf and closes the fridge door. 

“Okay,” he says out loud. “So I met Captain America. That’s fine. Cool, casual. It happens. Just the original superhero and my childhood crush. Pfft, no big deal.”

There’s a pause. 

“But he was definitely flirting with me, right?”

The empty room stares back at him. 

“Well that’s new,” Sam snorts and then nods. “Alright, bet.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sam wears his Good Shirts to work every day that week just in case Steve drops by. If you stay ready, you don't have to get ready.


	19. Stealth Suit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha comes for the recon, she stays for the show

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We can have some Sam/Nat, as a treat 
> 
> Prompt: stealth suit

Sam peeks around the damp warehouse wall, shield held at the ready. “We’re clear,” he murmurs into his comm, stepping forward into the next hallway. “Looking good so far.”

“Mhmm. Yes you are.” 

He huffs and rolls his eyes at the nearest security camera. “Really, Nat? You’re supposed to be checking for threats.”

“Oh, I’m checking out something.” Sam can hear the smirk in her voice. 

“Natasha.”

“Oh, leave me alone, the squints have it covered. I’m just here for moral support.”

“Is that what you call this?” Sam snorts before shouldering a stubborn door open.

“It’s your first stealth mission, Cap! I wasn’t going to miss this.” Her tone is as dry as ever, but Sam knows where this is going. “You won’t wear the suit for me at home.”

Sam is giving another camera the finger when there’s a tap on his shoulder. He turns to see the trail of STRIKE agents following behind him.

The one at his side lowers his hand and winces behind his face shield. “Uh, sir? Maybe next time, we could put you and Agent Romanov on your own channel? It’s a bit distracting.” 

“It’s that ass in that suit that’s distracting!”

“Yeah,” Sam huffs, embarrassed. “That’s probably for the best.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, “squints” is a Bones reference. No, I have no shame.


	20. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve is not easily distracted. Except when it comes to Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Uhaul AU w/smol Steve 
> 
> Prompt: Gold

Steve is distracted. 

He’s supposed to be working, the latest edits on his graphic novel are due on Friday, but his focus is solidly elsewhere.

Across the office, Sam sits at his own desk, pretending to look interested in the staff meeting happening on his zoom call. Out of frame, he’s fiddling with a fidget cube and tapping his foot, clear signs his patience is wearing thin after hours on the phone. But neither of those things are what’s stolen Steve’s attention. 

Instead, it’s the glint of gold on Sam’s left hand. The ring Steve placed there less than 24 hours ago. Steve shakes his head in awe. He still can’t quite believe it happened. 

It wasn’t planned, wasn’t the grand romantic gesture all their friends would expect from them. Honestly, the big part happened months ago, just weeks into their relationship. They were lying in bed, dozing in the mid-afternoon sun when Sam looked over and said “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“Yeah,” Steve smiled and scooted closer to wrap his arms around Sam. “Me too.”

They lay in silence for a while, both drifting in and out of consciousness. Some time later, Sam pressed his lips to Steve’s neck and asked “You want to make it official?” 

Steve shrugged sleepily, pulling him in closer. “Eventually. You in any rush?” 

“Nah.” Sam’s breath fluttered across Steve’s skin, making him shiver. 

“But someday?”

Sam grinned against his neck, pressing light kisses to his pulse. “Yeah, Steve. Someday.” 

They went back to sleep, holding each other a little closer than usual. 

Last night, Steve slipped the ring on Sam’s finger while they watched some one of his beloved avian documentaries on Netflix. Sam just grinned at him, pulling him in for a kiss before snuggling closer as they finished the film. There were no tears or romantic proclamations of undying love. It was a regular night, the very kind Steve wished to have for the rest of his life. That he will have. 

The ring itself is a Rogers family heirloom, passed down from Steve’s namesake, a great uncle who never married but spent his life with his childhood best friend. Sam had been delighted by the story, going on about carrying a little piece of queer history of him every day. Steve just watched him, chin propped in his palm, happy to listen to Sam talk about anything. 

He finds himself in the same position now, his tablet and stylist abandoned on the table in front of him. Sam is debating care options with one of his coworkers and Steve loves him still, even when he the accursed “let’s circle back to that later.” Shaking his head at himself, Steve turns back to his work and settles in. This chapter is due in three days. He has all his life to marvel at Sam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another proposal piece bc “gold” stumped me and these two are always down to gush about each other
> 
> Yes, I did post 4 chapters in less than 24 hours *finger guns* see you in three days when I’m behind again lmao


	21. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a sequel(ish) to chapter 12. Greyskull's back!
> 
> Prompt: Old Friends

Sam’s door is open before the car comes to a complete stop. He ducks out of the passenger side, standing and looking up as Redwing swoops down, landing on the roof beside him. 

_ I’ve sent word through the larks. She should be here soon.  _

Nodding, Sam keeps his eyes on the sky. “You sure this is a good idea?” he asks, shifting from foot to foot. 

Redwing picks at a stray feather, telegraphing his disinterest.  _ For the last time, Wilson. Grey does not resent you for the accident, loosing Cruz or her discharge. She was more worried about you after you left than I was. Not exactly a high bar, but it counts.  _ He lifts his head at Sam’s huff of laughter.  _ She will be at least half as excited to see you as she is me. Now stop moping, you’re harshing my vibe.  _

Sam snorts, watching his friend preen and adjust his plumage. “”Wait a minute, are you nervous too?” 

The bird freezes for a moment, caught, before returning to his business.  _ Don’t be ridiculous, Wilson. Not all of us are afflicted with such human emotions as doubt.  _

Before he can respond, a thrilled caw sounds from behind him. Sam turns just in time to brace for the heavy falcon to land on his shoulder. 

_ Samuel, _ Greyskull coos, nuzling her beak into his hair. 

“Grey,” he croaks, voice heavy with emotion, as he lifts a hand to brush her familiar feathers. “There you are.”

_ Knew you’d come,  _ she whispers in his brain. Sam’s breath hitches.  _ He  _ wasn’t even sure he’d come. But of course he did. 

They share this for a moment, silent and leaning into each other, before Redwing chirps indignantly from his spot on the car.  _ Ahem.  _

Greyskull wriggles where she stands on Sam before launching herself at Redwing, forceing them both to them to tumble across the roof of the car.  _ Brother!  _

Sam gives them a moment of their own, leaning into the back seat’s open window to grab his wing pack. 

“Everything okay out there?” Steve grins from the drivers seat, sketch pad already out and open. The thumping on the car roof comes to a hault at the sound of his voice, but he doesn’t seem to notice. 

“Yeah,” Sam grins. His smile is a little brittle around the edges. As much as he loves Steve, he’s not the one Sam wants to hear from right now. Not the last piece of their little quartet. “I’m gonna take them up for a quick flight. We’ll do introductions when we get back.” He tries not to feel guilty for the twinge of resentment in his gut. 

Steve nods, smiling sympathetically like he knows what Sam’s thinking. Like he understands. Like it’s okay. Sam’s still getting used to that. “Of course. I’ll be right here.” Sam smiles his thanks and stands. 

Redwing is nuzzling at the feathers on Greyskull’s neck, his favorite gossiping position.  _ He’s no Cruz, but he’s fine. Wilson likes him well enough. Lord know’s they’re loud as shit when they want to be.  _

Sam laughs, shrugging on his wing pack. “Alright, alright. If you two  _ mother hens  _ are quite done, I’m ready to fly.”

Both birds look up at him and, not for the first time, Sam wonders how animals with no lips can smirk. 

_ Fine, Samuel. Let’s see how you’ve let yourself fall off.  _

“Oh those are fighting words, Skully.” Sam goads. “Is that a challenge?”

_ You bet your beak it is.  _ Greyskull takes off, Redwing right behind her. 

Sam watches them go, letting himself feel Riley’s absence, before releasing his wings and taking flight. Redwing and Greyskull soar above him, falling into flank formation as if on instinct. None of them mention the gap to Sam’s left. Not yet. For now, they’re just going to fly. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this came out sadder than intended lol oops, my bad


	22. Confessions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve questions a classic. Sam is a troll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> everything else I thought of was super dramatic and would take a week to write soooo, instead we get crack
> 
> Prompt: Confessions

_ Said she's three months pregnant and she's keeping it _

_ The first thing that came to mind was you _

_ Second thing was how do I know if it's mine and is it true? _

Sam sings along as he cooks, swinging his hips sliding from the sink to the stove. 

“As much as I’m enjoying the show, this song sounds… not great.”

Sam glances over his shoulder at his new roommate chopping vegetables at the kitchen island. “Oh it’s absolutely not. But it’s a classic, so we let it slide.”

Steve nods skeptically, clearly deferring to Sam’s musical expertise. He makes it through another verse and the chorus before they get to what Sam as explained as the “quintessential 90s R&B breakdown.” 

_ This by far is the hardest thing I think I've ever had to do _

_ To tell you, the woman I love _

_ That I'm having a baby by a woman that I barely even know _

“Sam!” he gasps, making said man cackle. “Why is this in your top 25?”

“It’s a good song!” Sam insists through his laughter.

“I don’t think I believe you anymore.” 

“That’s fair. But do you love me?”

Steve blushes, his indignation melting away. “Always, Sam.”

Sam drops a kiss on Steve’s lips and turns back to the stove. He waits a beat before looking over his shoulder and asking “Even if I have a baby by a woman than I barely even know?” 

“Well, Sam, this was nice while it lasted. I'm moving out.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't know


	23. Happy Birthday!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam reaches a milestone. Steve is right there with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to Samtober lmao 
> 
> uhhh, yeah I'm like two weeks behind. I don't even know what happened. but we're back baby! I have about seven prompts left and I swear we're not going to make this into Samvember (though he does deserve). I hope to bang them out in the next week or so. Maybe don't hold me to that though 
> 
> Anyway, onward! 
> 
> Prompt: Happy Birthday!

Steve checks his watch as he makes his way to the bedroom. 11:57. Just in time. He stops in the doorway and leans against the frame to admire his husband. 

Sam is snuggled in bed with a new-to-him first edition Butler tome and a mug of hot cider. His reading glasses perch on the edge of his nose, practically demanding Steve come nuzzle them out of the way.

“You’re staring,” he murmurs, not looking up from his book. 

“You’re beautiful,” Steve shoots back, easing into their bed and crawling up Sam’s crossed legs.

“I’m old,” Sam rolls his eyes but sets his book on the bedside table. 

Steve settles himself on Sam’s lap, knees on either side of his hips, and drapes his arms over his husband’s broad shoulders. “You’re  _ seasoned _ , dear. Just the way I like you.” 

Sam wraps his wide hands around Steve’s hips. “And what would you know about seasoning?”

Steve snorts. “Well I’m quite acquainted with the little salt and pepper you’ve got going on here,” he says, massaging his thumbs in the growing gray patches at Sam’s temples. Markers of Sam’s creeping mortality that used to scare Steve until his own crows feet popped up. Erskine’s serum was still a mystery to them, so the smallest proof that he would age with his husband felt like a gift. 

Sam likes to remind him that he may have been born sixty years later, but he’s still  _ physically  _ ten years older than Steve. Gideon overheard them once and has called Steve Sam’s sugar baby ever since. 

“Cheeky,” Sam drawls, tugging Steve closer. He presses his face into Steve’s neck, exhaling over his collarbones. “On today of all days.”

“Everyday,” Steve whispers, like a promise. He clutches Sam tighter, eyes on the clock on the nightstand.

12:00

“Happy birthday, baby.” 

Sam squeezes his hips and tucks his chin over Steve’s shoulder. “Thank you, Steve.” He sighs. “Fifty. Can you believe it?”

Steve snickers. “Huh. I guess you are old.”

“Oh, I’ll show you old,” Sam growls, flipping them over and pressing Steve’s writs into the pillow above his head. 

It’s been thirteen years and Sam still takes his breath away. Every year he’s more sure that they’ll get old, but this won’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Question: Anybody know if there's any MCU evidence that Steve doesn't age? I assume it came from either the ice or Bucky hasn't aged theories, but is it confirmed anywhere?
> 
> I kinda love thinking about how Sam is really older that Steve, in waking/aging hours at least.


	24. Crossovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam gets a call. And a warning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Crossovers!! I love them. I have like five planned. I am terrified to write them. 
> 
> This one in particular is with Leverage. Alec Hardison, brilliantly played by Aldis Hodge, is one of my favorite characters of all time. Like, this is the man who hacked into the Pentagon as a teenager because he was bored. He would be all over SHIELD even before Nat leaks all the HYDRA info. We know so little of his backstory, so like why can't his Nana also be Darlene's sister?
> 
> Anyway, here's the Sam and Hardison are cousins fic I've always wanted. 
> 
> Prompt: Crossover

Sam’s just coming in his front door, breathing heavily from his run, when his phone rings. 

Not his cell phone, or the house phone he rarely uses. It’s the small flip phone on the top shelf of his hall closet. 

It rings twice before cutting off. He waits, counting the seconds before it rings again. When it does, exactly 74 seconds later, he dives for the closet door, snatching the phone off the shelf just as the second ring chimes again. 

“What’s happened?”

“Not sure, but something wild is coming your way.”

Sam shakes his head. “I need more than that, Alec. What have you seen?”

“It’s SHIELD. They’ve always been a touch shadier than most government agencies. I always assumed it was because they’re the ones with the aliens in the basement but this is bigger.” 

“Bigger than aliens?” Sam can feel his eyebrows rising. He can’t imagine anything bigger for Alex than aliens. Except maybe his partners. 

“Nah, man. This is big. Like billions on billions, big. Money I can’t even trace. Files so deep I can’t get into. Whatever it is, it can’t be good. Sam, I think it’s bigger than us.” 

“Okay.” That’s all Sam needs. Alec’s always been a bit goofy but he's grown up a lot in the past few years. And he doesn’t joke about work. If he says it’s government conspiracy, too much for the Leverage team to face, Sam believes him. “What does this have to do with me? What can I do?”

“That’s just it. You may already be in it. Your _new_ _friend_ ,” he says with an emphasis Sam knows all too well. Surviving puberty with someone will do that. “There was a shooting at his place last night, and SHIELD put out an APB for him and the Widow last night.”

“Fuck.” Sam begins to pace. He doesn’t bother asking how Alec knows where Steve Rogers lives, of how he got access to SHIELD’s internal memos. 

“It’s still out, so I’m pretty sure they’re still alive. SHIELD dropped a bomb on an old army training camp in Jersey, that claims to be the birthplace of a certain captain.”

Sam stops and reaches for the box just behind the burner phone’s hiding place. He pulls out a file he never thought he’d ever need again. Hoped? Maybe in the quiet, sleepless nights. Expected? Not once. 

“And what makes you think this is coming my way?” 

He can practically hear Alec shrug on the other end of the line. “You’re the only non-SHIELD operative I can find any record of Rogers speaking to in the last two months. Even his neighbor's on the payroll. Smart money’s in you being the only person they can trust.” 

Sam nods, though he knows Alec can’t see him. “Sad but probably true.” 

“And to think you thought it was just going to be a couple one night stands,” Alec laughs.

Sam rolls his eyes but can’t help but chuckle a little as well. “Should have known when he disappeared at five in the morning and showed up with breakfast an hour later.” 

There’s a beat of silence as they both wonder how bad this could get. 

“You’ll call if you need anything,” says Alec. It isn’t a question. 

“Of course. You’ll give Eliot and Parker my love.” 

“Always do.” Another beat. “And if it’s nothing?” 

They both know it’s not.

“I’ll call then, too.” Sam looks up when he hears a tussling in his backyard. “I think that’s them,” he says, creeping towards his patio door. “Talk soon.” 

“Yeah, man. Be safe. 

“Always am. Later, cuz. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. Like jump out of a plane or some shit.” 

Sam laughs and hangs up, turning to the tapping on his window. 

_Here we go_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure I really like Alec's characterization here, but I'm no where near as comfortable writing him as I am Sam. Oh, well. More things to practice!


	25. Trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam's stuck between a bed and a hardheaded boyfriend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Trapped

Sam grins as his laughter dies down, rubbing his sides where they hurt from trying to hold in the giggles. “Alright get off of me. Time for breakfast,” he nudges his boyfriend who’s moonlighting as a weighted blanket.

“Mmmm, no. I think I’ll stay right here.” Bucky locks his arms around Sam’s waist, snuggling into his pecs. 

“Nah, Buck c’mon. I’m hungry.” Sam digs a knuckle into Bucky’s side. “And we gotta start setting up for the party.”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nope. No food, no party. You’re trapped here, with me, in this bed, forever and ever.”

“Barnes, I know you think you’re immortal and all but we would actually starve. Or more likely, you’d complain about being hungry after about an hour and I’d have to kick you out of bed just to get you to shut up.”

“Mmm you could always feed me your di—”

“I'M GETTING OUT OF BED NOW, JAMES!” 

Sam flings the curtains back with one hand and peels Bucky’s hands apart with the other. 

“Go bathe, ya nasty. Breakfast will be ready by the time you’re done.” 

“Pancakes?” Bucky’s head perks up from where he’s already buried it in Sam’s pillow. 

“No time. Cereal.”

Bucky groans, pulling the comforter over his head. 

“Shoulda let me get up!” Sam snickers as he leaves the room. It’s a good start to his day. 


	26. Letters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some soft sad-ish gen fic  
> idk I was in a mood 
> 
> prompt: letters

At the bottom of the trunk, at the foot of his bead, under layers of spare blankets and winter sweaters, is a bundle of letters. Letters from a number of people; family, friends from college, old exes. Most are pretty generic, a quick hello, an update on neighborhood drama, a birthday card with a touching note inside. All from people who loved him. 

The letters have come with him across the world. A safety blanket on some days, a friendly reminder on others. 

He breaks them out on the dark days. When nothing makes sense and the light hurts his eyes and the world feels like it’s on the edge, Sam opens that chest, wraps himself in one of those blankets and settles in. 

Some are yellowing around the edges, a grocery list from his father fading almost beyond recognition. Others are crisp and relatively new, little notes from his niece and nephew, a Christmas card from one of his vets who moved away. 

But they all do the trick, stoke the fire in his heart and give him a little faith. In himself, in his worth, in humanity. 

It’s not perfect, not a quick fix or guaranteed to work every time. But it’s a tool in his arsenal of coping mechanisms, wielded with the confidence and intention only years of therapy could give him. 

The dark days come fewer and farther between now. He keeps the letters. And they keep him. 


	27. Figaro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of us are just bad a fostering

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> more furbabies! 
> 
> prompt: Figaro

“Are you serious?” 

“What?” Sam looks up from his seat on the living room floor.

Steve squints at him, arms folded. “I’ve been asking for a dog for years and you say no because Redwing is _too_ _sensitive_ but Natasha brings home a cat and you just take it?” 

“It’s just a foster, Steve.” Sam turns back to playing with the kitten he's taken in. “Stop pouting, we’re not keeping him. I told Nat we’d take care of him until she found a good home.” 

“Mmhmm, and you’re just going to hand him over when it’s time?”

“Why are you looking at me like that? Of course I am. I’m not going to get attached to Figaro.” 

“You’ve named him already?” Steve laughs. “Oh but of course not. Taking in some poor lost soul ‘for a few days’ and then getting surprised when they fall in love with you and never leave. That doesn’t sound like you at all, does it Sammy?”

Sam doesn’t look up and continues to dangle the mouse toy over the tiny cat. “Your sarcasm and finger quotes are not appreciated.” 

“Two weeks, Sam. I give it two weeks and you and that cat will be obsessed with each other. And when you prove me right I’m getting a damn dog.” 

“Sure,” Sam snorts, knowing it’s not going to happen. 

…

Ten days later, Steve comes home to find Sam fast asleep on the couch, a little ball of white fur snoring peacefully on his head. Steve smiles softly and snaps a picture. He texts both the picture and a few links to adoption listings on the Humane society website to Sam before heading into the kitchen. 

Maybe he can convince Sam they can _foster_ that jack russell terrier.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by my best friend who insisted she was fostering a kitten "for the week" and had filled out the adoption paperwork by day three


	28. TeamCap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It only took two thousand miles and a couple shared partners to bring them together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one has been fighting me for days 😔 
> 
> prompt: TeamCap

They've been driving for days. 

It's Steve's fault. Then again, it's always Steve's fault.

Two weeks ago, Steve had blundered into their living room, grinning and announcing that he had the _perfect_ Valentines Day trip idea. This whole polycule thing is still new, and Sam wasn't sure a major road trip was the best way to start a relationship, let alone three. But Steve had that goofy, excited grin on his face that even Nat had a hard time saying no to. 

So now they're here, four days in and crossing the New Mexico border into Arizona. 

It hasn't actually been that bad. They take turns driving. Bucky and Steve's metabolisms mean they've tried a bevy of new restaurants as they crossed the country. Natasha insists they stop at a number of book stores, most out of their way and off the beaten path. She's yet to give them a reason but they're pretty sure she has a list; addresses and directions stored in her steel trap of a mind. Steve makes them stop at a motel every night, despite knowing they're all far more accustomed to traveling under the cover of darkness. He says it's so it doesn't feel like work, but they all know its because he sleeps better under the press of their bodies. And there's something about the clear open sky, stretching on for as far as the eye can see, that puts Sam at peace, makes him feel free. 

All in all, its been a fun if not downright pleasant trip. 

Except for one thing. 

“This road is sus.”

Sam’s hands flex around the steering wheel. “Bucky, I swear to God if you don’t stop with that damn game I’m going to leave you on the side of the road. Find your own way to the Grand Canyon.” He doesn’t need to turn to know what face Bucky is making from the backseat. 

Except it's been four days and they're all too active to be cooped up for this long. 

“Well maybe if y'all weren't too stuck up to play with me, I wouldn’t have to try and fit in with the youths.” 

And the car is starting to smell a little musty. 

“Considering you haven’t been _ a youth _ since the Great Depression, it’s fair to assume they’re not falling for it.”

And Sam's back is starting to ache. 

“And when was the last time anyone called you young, Wilson? I'm not the one hunched over the wheel and wincing every time we hit a bump. ”

_ Damn him. _ And Bucky is working his last nerve.

Sam throws a glare at the rearview mirror. “Boy if you don’t -- ”

Steve’s hand falls on Sam’s where it rests on the gear shift. “And to think you two were doing so well.”

Bucky says something snappy in Russian. Sam’s not even going to ask. 

Though they're long over the initial hostility and mistrust, Sam and Bucky still communicate almost solely through snark. 

Steve sighs, glancing back at where Natasha is curled up with a book. 

“Listen to your boyfriend, boys,” she drones from under Bucky’s arm. Her eyes don’t move from the page, but her foot, balanced precariously on her opposite knee, flicks towards Buck, digging into his thigh. "We're almost there. Keep it together and we can all get some air." 

Bucky grumbles but settles deeper into his seat. Steve squeezes Sam’s hand and turns back to the road. Sam sits up straighter in his own, doing his best to radiate  _ unbothered.  _

There’s a beat of silence before Natasha speaks. 

“Maybe once you stretch your legs, you'll actually get to the kiss and make up part this time."

Sam's eyes fly to the rearview mirror, where Bucky's just as wide ones are staring back. Quickly looking back to the road, Sam smiles to himself at the blush he saw in Bucky's cheeks. _Good to know._

Beside him, Steve is smirking out his window. His thumb brushes over Sam's knuckles, amused and silently supportive. 

Sam rolls down his own window, letting the wind blow across his face. His man's hand in his, his best friends at his back and nothing but possibilities on the horizon. 

_ Well, Happy Valentines Day to me.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why teamcap just translates to barbershop quartet in my brain but here we are


	29. Autumn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fall always felt like a disappointment. This isn't that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw// depression 
> 
> Nothing graphic or overtly upsetting. There's as allusion to a character being concerned about self harm, but its not in any way acted on. 
> 
> Feel free to skip! Take care of yourselves, loves 💙💙
> 
> prompt: Autumn

Fall’s coming. School is back in session. The leaves will start to change. Jody’s going to start obsessing over a costume. His birthday is coming soon. Ma will want to throw a party. 

All things Sam desperately longed for when he was on tour. He barely notices. 

The days are shortening. A chill is settling in. The dark is creeping, sliding up his back to pull him deeper. He shrugs it off but not away. 

Sam remembers the boredom fall used to represent. The end of summer. Days of sun and swimming with his cousins in the creek behind his grandmother’s house giving way to long hours in classrooms and weather too cold to play outside with his friends. Fall always felt like a disappointment, a slow descent into the real world, paling in comparison to what life could be. 

This is nothing like that. This is… 

The grief sits in his bones, flaying him open when he least expects it. The nightmares, on the other hand, those he sees coming a mile away. 

Everything else just kind of happens around him. Sarah and Will visit. They bring Jody. Sam laughs. It feels like the first time. His baby sister is pregnant. He can’t remember if that’s new information or not. He congratulates her anyway. 

Some days the tears don’t stop. Half the time he doesn’t even notice them. 

He tells his mom the city is too loud, too busy, stifling. He tells himself she’s not hurt when he decides to go. 

Will drives him to an airbnb in Massachusetts. Fills the cabin with groceries and makes Sam promise to check in everyday. His parting hug leaves bruises on Sam’s skin. His eyes bore into Sam’s. His “see you next weekend” feels like an order. 

Sam sees him the next weekend. And the one after that.

It’s a week before Sam goes farther than the yard. It’s a month before he tries one of the hiking trails.

His hikes get longer and longer. He finds himself at the peak of a local mountain. The world opens up around him. Miles and miles of uninterrupted sky, blue as far as he can see. The wind picks him up, blowing him back against the bluff and Sam laughs out loud. 

It is achingly familiar and devastatingly not enough. 

The tears come but Sam welcomes them. He  _ feels  _ them. The trees around him ruffle in the wind, waves of red and orange sobbing along with him. 

It’s another hour before he finds his way back to the trail. Leaving something behind on the peak, taking something new back. 

Or maybe it’s something old. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was supposed to be about Sam and Bucky going to an apple orchard??? idk Im sorry lmao


	30. Domestic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a regular morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are! 31 days late but we’re here!! Don’t mind me I’m just actually shocked I finished a multi chapter fic. Pls hold for the sappy shit at the end. 
> 
> Prompt: domestic

Sam pads out of the bathroom and towards his dresser, tugging a pair of boxer briefs out of the top drawer. He’s reaching for the towel wrapped around his hips when a low whistle sounds behind him. 

“Good morning Steven,” Sam smirks, not turning but dropping his towel. 

“Mmmm, yes it is.” 

Sam snorts, glancing over his shoulder at his husband. Steve is still in bed, reclining against the pillows with their soft white comforter draped artfully across his chest. He grins sleepily at Sam, absently scratching at his beard. 

“You look comfortable,” Sam laughs, ducking into the closet. 

Steve stretches, arching his back enticingly. The duvet slips down his chest. “I am. We could uh, both be comfortable.” His voice is rough with sleep, the way he knows drives Sam wild. 

“Uh uh, put your tits away. We don’t have time. I have a meeting with Monica and Strange and the kids will be up and demanding breakfast long before you’re satisfied.” Sam comes out of the closet fully dressed, swatting at Steve’s grabby hands as he passes. He’s pretending to be exasperated but he’s wearing the purple button down Steve loves for the way it pulls just right across his shoulders. 

“C’mon Sammy. Just a quickie,” Steve goads. 

Sam barks a laugh. “When have you, Steven Grant Wilson, ever been able to stop at a quickie?” 

Steve huffs. “The Skrull charity gala last year!” 

Sam rolls his eyes, adjusting his cuffs in the mirror. “It doesn’t count if we went back to the coat closet for more. Twice.” 

“Yeah we did,” Steve leers. There’s a hint of pride in his tone that Sam can’t help but share. 

Sam returns to the bed, bending at the waist to drop a lingering kiss on Steve’s lips. “Yes, we did.” He bounces out of reach before Steve can get his hands on him. “And we will. After my meetings and when the kids are back down for their naps. Not all of us get to retire at thirty-five, ya know.”

Steve groans, tossing his head back into the pillows. “Fine. Go to work, oh great provider. But I’m staying here until they’re up.” He burrows back under the covers, bright eyes teasing Sam. 

“I know you’re joking, but that might actually do it for me.” 

“Hmm. I’ll keep that in mind.” 

Sam winks at him before heading down the hall to his office. He leaves the bedroom door cracked, knowing the kids will probably join Steve in bed before long. If he’s lucky, he can wrap up this first meeting in time to join them for breakfast. 

Just as he’s sitting at his desk, the patter of little feet stumble past his closed door and towards his room. He can’t make out what the soft voices are saying but he recognizes Rayshawn’s sleepy giggle. Sam grins. It’s gonna be a good day. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhh! Okay wow. This would not have been possible without viewers like you lol sorry I couldn’t help it 
> 
> But really, thank you thank you thank you for all the support and the comments and the kudos! This is the first month(s 😅) long event I’ve participated in and I could not have done it without y’all. Being able to bring my lil brain farts to life and to get all this wonderful feedback has been incredible! Special thanks to Nacho and cinni for giving us Samtember and a hundred other opportunities rain love on our bird king.


End file.
